Does it really matter
What color you are;
Where you're born,
That you've come far,
What belief you hold on the afterlife.
Did you live in luxury,
Where you steeled in strife.
Our babies grasp onto our backs,
Stroke their cheeks,
See them react.
Tap my knee,
My leg will kick;
Show your teeth,
I'll snarl back.
That's how I survive.
Reproduction's not the reason
I like to stay alive.
I have many tribes.
I make plans for tomorrow,
And should it not arrive,
I'll leave my life knowing,
I kept myself alive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem, keep up the good work Francie! ! !